(it's also for boys sneaking around, sneaking phone calls and text messages when they're supposed to be distant and cold and bitter).

I'm sorry it's taken so long. I tried three or four different ideas but this is the one that stuck.

Title: ClandestineFandom: bandomPairing: Brendon/RyanRating: Nc-17Word count: 6475 (how 'bout that drabble?)Summary: Ryan doesn't expect Brendon to actually show up in New York at the show and he certainly doesn't expect what happens, only now he can't quite let go. A/N: many thanks to my wonderful beta, S. She made this a thousand times better.

Ryan’s sweating a bit when he gets off stage, which is new. Something about the smaller clubs and their lack of air circulation means he’s actually perspiring when he closes the dressing room door behind him. He still half-expects Brendon to call first shower even though this is their eighth show, but of course Brendon doesn’t, so Ryan ducks into the small washroom himself when he sees that Jon is busy on the phone. He takes his time in the shower, enjoying the decent water pressure and hot water. He’s been staying at Alex’s while he’s in New York and there is definitely something to be said for hot water that doesn’t run out after eight minutes. He feels the adrenaline run out of him as he watches the water go down the drain and he finally turns off the shower.

He changes into his off-stage clothing (though if you hadn’t just seen him on stage you probably wouldn’t know the difference – a three-piece suit is a three-piece suit) and opens the washroom door still towel-drying his shaggy hair.

He doesn’t expect to see Jon talking to Brendon when he looks up. More than that, he doesn’t expect the rush of relief and fondness that comes over him. It leaves him flustered and unable to speak for a moment until the Brendon looks over and says, “hey” and Ryan returns the greeting on auto-pilot. Brendon’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, doing that careful casual thing he does which takes as much planning and co-ordination as Ryan’s wardrobe though Brendon will never admit it.

He looks good, Ryan notices, in the split-second he has to look before Brendon is pulling him into a hug. Brendon still smells the same and feels the same and Ryan maybe doesn’t want to let go but he does; he makes himself step away and smile.

“Did you catch the show?” Ryan asks, even though he knows Brendon did. Ryan sent him the fucking tickets, so he had better have used them. Ryan had been about ready to give up telling them where they were touring except a stubborn part of him – the part that kept harassing Pete Wentz when he was seventeen – really wanted them to see this thing that he had created, this project that he was proud of. And now Brendon has, and this stupid adolescent part of Ryan still wants to know what Brendon thinks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brendon says, bobbing slightly in place. “It sounded good, really good. The crowd was crazy, man.” He laughs, the half-nervous laugh that he lets loose in interviews, but Ryan doesn’t call him on it.

“Yeah, they were good,” Jon says, and Ryan had almost forgotten that he was there. He’s having trouble tearing his eyes away from Brendon’s easy grin and fidgeting hands. He still can’t quite believe Brendon’s here, even though he had felt solid enough when they had hugged. It’s possible he isn’t quite ready for the emotional avalanche that comes along with having his old band mate in the same room.

“Hey dudes,” someone says, and Ryan looks up from Brendon’s hands to see Alex hovering in the doorway. “You guys coming out?”

Ryan looks to Jon and finds him looking back at him. “Yeah, I’m game,” Jon says after a moment.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll meet up later,” Ryan says and waves them on. Alex pauses as if he’s not sure he should actually leave Ryan alone in the same room as Brendon. Alex may have been privy to some drunken, bitter rambling back when the band first split; Ryan doesn’t blame him for being suspicious.

“We’re fine,” Ryan insists with a laugh. “Go!”

They do, and suddenly Ryan wishes he hadn’t sent them away. This awkward silence is even worse. Ryan wishes desperately for Spencer to make things easy the way he always has but Spencer isn’t there so Ryan fills the silence himself.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” he says finally as he collects his stuff from the dressing room. Brendon stands in the middle of the room watching him as if he knows Ryan well enough not to help.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” Brendon says with a shrug Ryan catches in the vanity mirror. He turns to face Brendon. “Really?”

Brendon smiles. “Not really, no.” He rubs at the back of his head the way he does when he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands and Ryan feels this inexplicable fondness that hasn’t come easily in nearly a year.

“Are you in town for long?” Ryan asks, turning back to his packing and Brendon hesitates, as if he’s trying to decide if he should lie before he says, “No, not really. Just tomorrow. I leave in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, slowly letting himself absorb this information.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to hang out or whatever,” Brendon says with a shrug. “So I just didn’t want to push it.”

“I wouldn’t have sent the tickets if I didn’t want you to come,” Ryan counters, but finds himself looking away under Brendon’s raised eyebrow.

“Sometimes you’re not that straightforward,” Brendon mutters and Ryan concedes silently. When Ryan has drawn out packing up as long as possible he turns back to Brendon.

“Did you want to go out?” Ryan asks and isn’t too surprised when Brendon sort of shakes his head.

“I’m staying just a couple blocks down though, if you wanted to come up,” Brendon offers, and that does surprise Ryan.

Brendon’s hotel is indeed only a couple of blocks away, and Ryan imagines him Google-searching the gig and finding the easiest way to make a hasty escape if need be. It fills his stomach with an uneasy feeling that he knows he deserves, a little. The hotel is nondescript, a further indicator of location being its prime feature.

“I’m just – “ Brendon says, motioning towards the elevator, and they ride up in silence to the seventh floor. Ryan isn’t sure what he’s expecting once they get into the room – to get drunk on the mini bar and giggle the night away perhaps, it wouldn’t be the first time – but it isn’t for Brendon to say, “Your hair has gotten long,” while fingering one of his curls. He doesn’t really expect to kiss Brendon but it just seems natural after that, as if all the things in the past that have made this a phenomenally bad idea suddenly don’t matter as much.

“This is a really bad idea,” Ryan still pants out a few minutes later when he can feel Brendon hard against his thigh and knows if he doesn’t give a token protest now it’s going to be never.

“Do you want to stop?” Brendon asks, slightly out of breath.

“Fuck no,” Ryan mutters against his lips and goes for Brendon’s belt.

-

The moments after that Ryan lives out in his head a little obsessively and possessively for the next thirty-seven hours until his phone rings as he’s shopping with Alex and the display reads ‘BDEN’. Ryan can’t quite stifle the smile as he answers his phone, covertly stepping away from Alex.

“Hey,” he says in a low voice, wandering over to a rack of shirts out of Alex’s line of vision.

“Hey,” Brendon replies, sounding a bit nervous and a bit relieved too. “What are you up to?”

Ryan hears a faint bark in the background and he can almost picture Brendon sitting on his bed, maybe, or in his living room on those ugly couches.

“How was your flight?” Ryan asks, for lack of something to talk about (though he supposes if he were feeling brave he might bring up what happened in the hotel room; he’s not). He should probably just let Brendon go, he thinks, as he spots Alex coming towards him, but he doesn’t really want to. He remembers Brendon’s kiss to his temple before he rolled out of bed the morning after the show; he remembers how it made him feel – strangely nostalgic and fond – and he isn’t quite ready to let that feeling go.

Brendon makes a non-committal sound across the line. “I’d already seen the movie and the crossword sucked. Ended up playing Nintendo DS with this kid across the aisle.”

Ryan laughs softly. “You should have stuck around,” he says without really meaning to, but meaning it all the same.

“Yeah,” Brendon says after a moment. “Yeah, I know. When are you back in LA?”

Ryan smiles before answering. “I don’t know. I think we’re doing another couple shows out here and then Jon wants to see about Chicago and.... yeah. I don’t know.” Ryan sees Alex spot him and quickly adds, “It was good seeing you.”

“Yeah, you – you too.”

“I’ve... I’ve got to go. Alex is finally tired of trying on boots.”

Brendon makes a humming noise.

“I’ll call you later?” Ryan says at the last second and cringes a little at how it sounds so high school.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, though. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I’ll be around.”

“Okay. I’ll – um. Okay. Bye,” Ryan says hurriedly and hangs up as Alex comes up and slings an arm around his shoulder.

“Who was that?” he asks, not because he really cares but because he probably saw the way Ryan had wandered off to take the phone call.

Ryan shrugs. He isn’t sure exactly why he feels like he should keep this secret, only that it seems like the right thing to do. He wondered briefly if Brendon can manage the same discretion before shaking off his worries. “You find some boots?”

Alex erupts into laughter. “Oh my god, you have to see these!”

Ryan lets himself be pulled off, Brendon temporarily forgotten.

There are other phone calls after that, other excuses for Ryan to duck out of a party or to take a break while rehearsing. The whole thing feels a bit secretive, but Ryan isn’t ready to give that up yet, not even under Jon’s inquisitive gaze. It feels too new, which is ridiculous because it’s Brendon, Ryan’s oldest on-again off-again crush, but it still feels like something entirely different. It feels like they’re charting new territory, which is at once frightening and exhilarating.

Despite this, it’s the most relaxed Ryan has been around Brendon in a long while. They fight a bit, sure, but it’s been mostly teasing about Ryan’s complete inability to pack matching clothes (along with phone pics sent back and forth). They avoid certain topics entirely - either through conscious effort or through practice – that they know are likely to send them into screaming matches. It’s a bit like knowing that the big red flashing button is there in front of them, but being content for once to push the other interesting ones instead. Brendon has a lot of buttons, Ryan is learning. He can go from being a complete dork to talking dirty in the time it takes Ryan to blink and figure out if he can get away jerking off wherever he is (usually not, though sometimes Ryan makes a point of calling Brendon right before bed).

He almost gets caught a few times – once during dinner out, when he cuts off mid-laugh to see a new text message on his phone. He ignores his friends’ looks as he checks his phone under the table. He can feel the deep flush that starts at the base of his neck as he reads the text message from Brendon. I’m thinking about fucking you is all it says, but it’s enough to push Ryan’s mind into overload, imagining where Brendon is, what he’s doing as he texts.

Yeah? he texts back and rests his phone against his thigh. It vibrates again a few seconds later and Ryan glances under the table, trying to read the display without anyone noticing. I think I’d want you down on all fours the message says and Ryan inhales sharply. Fuck he texts and then, against his better judgement, tell me.

“Who’s that?” Z asks as he hits send, leaning her head on his shoulder to try and see the display.

“No one,” Ryan says and turns his phone over even though that probably makes him look guiltier.

“You’re pretty red for no one,” Z says softly, a smile hinting around her lips. There’s conversations going on around them in the restaurant and Ryan knows that he could easily tell her without anyone else eavesdropping. He doesn’t. He does nearly jump out of his seat though when he feels the vibration against his leg.

Z laughs and looks at him, eyebrow raised – a challenge if he’s ever seen one.

“You not going to answer that?” she asks coyly and Ryan thinks about it, weighs the pros and cons in his mind before shaking his head.

“Ryan has a secret,” Z sing-songs and Ryan rolls his eyes. The phone feels warm against his thigh and his fingers are itching to turn it over and read the text that he knows is there. He doesn’t though, not until the check comes and the others are busy looking for that twenty they knew they had. Ryan sets his credit card on the table and clicks on the message.

I’d open you up real slow, it says and Ryan swallows hard. He hits next. Are you home? The message was sent twenty minutes ago but Ryan still replies. Out for dinner he types quickly and presses send before anyone can notice. He tucks the phone into his pocket and feels it vibrate a few seconds later, as if Brendon was waiting for his response. His phone vibrates again as they pile into a cab to go to a club, but Ryan doesn’t give into his curiosity. He wants to wait until he’s home away from the prying eyes of others.

It’s past two by the time he gets in. He’s alone, though not for lack of offers. He just wasn’t quite in the mood, distracted by the messages he knew were waiting for him. He makes himself take off his jacket and shoes and turn on the light on his side table before clicking on his inbox.

I hope you’re reading these under the table. Ryan smirks. Of course Brendon would. Or maybe in the washroom jerking off and trying to be quiet. Ryan wonders if Brendon’s ever done that and takes a moment to picture it, Brendon’s jeans down around his thighs and cock in hand. He can almost hear the soft noises Brendon would make, just like the noises he made when Ryan jerked him off in the hotel room. He unbuttons his pants before clicking the next message. i know you suck at being quiet is all the next message says, and Ryan blushes, remembering their night in New York when Ryan couldn’t help the noises that escaped. Brendon hadn’t seemed to mind, murmuring encouragement against Ryan’s mouth as he rubbed their cocks together, crudely, but exactly what Ryan had wanted. All that skin against skin had been enough, more than enough, to get Ryan off.

I wouldn’t want you to hold back. I want to hear you, the next message reads. Ryan lets out a low groan as he strokes himself and hits next. You’d look so good like that on your knees. Ryan can’t help picturing it, Brendon behind him and sliding in easily after all his teasing. He closes his eyes and can nearly hear Brendon’s soft groans with every thrust, can easily imagine Brendon’s hands hot and sweaty on his hips or maybe in his hair pulling Ryan’s head back to expose his throat. Ryan’s eyes flutter open and he hits next on his phone, lying nearly forgotten beside him. I bet you’d be so tight is all it says but it makes Ryan speed up his strokes. Fuck you so hard. Ryan bites down his bottom lip. He’s getting close, really close, but he hits next. I’d come all over you. Ryan lets loose a groan and comes hard, all over his hand. It’s a moment before Ryan has caught his breath and picked up his phone again. There’s one more message waiting and Ryan selects it.

It’s nearly three weeks, twenty-four phone calls and fifty-two text messages since New York. Ryan hasn’t been keeping track, but his phone company has, and when his bill comes in he does a double-take and actually looks at that itemized billing sheet that he usually skips over. At the bottom of the page, a helpful speech bubble lets him know that he can change his top-five at any time and Ryan pauses before flipping to the next page.

He could add Brendon to his top-five callers. It makes sense from a practical point of view. It would mean free unlimited texting and calling. It also means acknowledging that this whole little affair is not going to dry up and die a natural death (it more specifically means actually hoping that their affair is not going to die, which is the part that is rattling Ryan’s nerves). Ryan has never been practical though and he leaves the phone bill on the table and then, on second thought, tucks it into a drawer where prying eyes won’t think to look.

He tucks his phone into his pocket along with his keys and wallet and heads out back into the pseudo-wilderness that surrounds his house. He hasn’t been walking for too long when his phone vibrates against his hip. He pulls it out and reads the text from Brendon. Back in LA.

Oh, Ryan thinks. He stops in his walking and looks at the phone and then all around as if nature might hold the answers. He ends up tucking his phone back in his pocket and not saying anything. When Ryan had gotten back from their few shows, Brendon had been away with Spence filming a video so he hasn’t had to deal with the reality of actually seeing Brendon until now. He thinks about it and a nervous thrumming runs up and down his arms. He thinks about just letting their time in New York be a one-time thing and he’s awash with disappointment. His phone vibrates again and he pulls it out.

What are you doing tonight? Brendon writes.

Ryan sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He could let it die, he knows. He could feed Brendon excuses until Brendon gave up on him. A small, nasty voice in the back of his mind helpfully reminds him that he’s going to fuck it up anyway so why not get it over with.

Busy tonight, he types and presses send before he thinks of Brendon’s disappointed face on the other end of his text and types another message: Tomorrow?

He feels in over his head and floundering but it’s not an unwelcome feeling or even an unfamiliar one, though it’s been a while. The last time was probably sitting in the studio with Jon that first day recording Take a Vacation and saying, “So...” They’d gotten through that and he’ll get through this too he knows, as he turns and walks back towards the house.

His phone vibrates and he pauses to look at it. Bx’s bday :(. Ryan frowns. Naturally, now that he’s talked himself into seeing Brendon it’s going to be impossible. He hasn’t replied when another text comes through. Don’t know the rest of my week. Keep you posted. Ryan smiles faintly and makes his way back to his house and through the front door.

It’s the next day around one when he gets the text from Pete that Ryan had half been expecting all day. Party for the little dude tonight. You in?

Ryan texts back in the affirmative and thinks of texting Brendon to let him know before deciding against it. Brendon has always liked surprises.

He shows up early, probably too early, but it was either kill time at home or at Pete’s, and Pete’s might at least have free beer, so he heads over. He greets Pete with a hug and hands over the gift he bought and had gift-wrapped for Bronx at the small all-natural handmade toy store he had found one day in his wanderings.

“Thanks dude,” Pete says with a grin and wrangles him into being introduced to a dozen people that Ryan knows he won’t remember. He doesn’t stick around for small talk, opting instead to wander into the kitchen and grab himself a beer from the cooler set up on the counter. He takes it back to the living room to drink and scans the room for a familiar grin. When he doesn’t see it, he heads out to the patio for a smoke.

It’s not that he’s hiding, exactly. Or, well, that’s what he tells himself as he lights the cigarette and glances back through the glass at the party. People seem to be mingling and drinking and a year ago he would have been doing the same, only this time the only person he really wants to talk to is the one person he would have avoided last year. He shakes his head and digs out another smoke.

Four cigarettes later he hears a familiar laugh through the glass and turns before he even registers it as Brendon. He sees the moment Brendon notices him, sees his grin widen before he can dampen it – and he does dampen it, Ryan notices, which answers his question about whether Brendon has told Spencer about what happened in New York. He raises his cigarette in silent salute, his own smile appearing before he can help it. He knows he should go in, say hi to Spencer if nothing else but he selfishly wants to get Brendon to himself first.

He doesn’t have to wait long. He’s just finishing his cigarette when Brendon comes out onto the patio.

“Hey man, hey,” Brendon says with a grin and pulls Ryan into a hug that Ryan doesn’t even try to resist. It feels solid and familiar and Ryan holds on as long as he thinks he can get away with.

“Hi,” Ryan says when they pull away. He pulls out another cigarette so they have an excuse to stay outside and offers Brendon one from his pack that he accepts. He lets Brendon dig the lighter out of his pocket and light both.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Brendon says, bouncing a little on his heels. Ryan is aware of the distance between them, aware that to the people inside it should look like they’re just catching up, not that they’ve been counting down to this moment since the last time they were in the same physical space.

Ryan shrugs and gives him a smile. “Pete invited me last minute, so...”

Brendon nods. “It’s good, man. It’s good.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Fuck, I sort of just want to leave with you now.”

Ryan nods. “Yeah, I haven’t...” He looks down at his shoes. “I haven’t really told anyone either.” This is true, though he suspects Z knows by the way she sing-songed Brendon’s name last time she looked at his phone and tossed it to him.

“I didn’t know if it was a thing or what, so I just – “ Brendon starts to ramble and Ryan knows a ramble when he sees one so he just interrupts.

“No, it’s cool. It’s kind of... I don’t know. I like that it’s between us.”

“Clandestine,” Brendon says, drawing out the syllables and grins when Ryan glances over. Ryan returns the smile and adds a roll of his eyes.

“I really just want to -” Brendon starts in a low voice and Ryan inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” Ryan says, stopping him. “Don’t fucking start that right now.” There’s no way he’s going back into Bronx’s birthday party with a hard on. It’s just not happening. Brendon grins as if he knows exactly what effect he’s been having on Ryan lately and he probably does, the little shit.

Ryan exhales smoke into his face just to be obnoxious, but Brendon doesn’t seem bothered.

“We could maybe find a room,” Brendon says casually as they finish off their cigarettes.

“Like another hotel? I do have a house.”

“Like upstairs.”

Ryan looks at him. It doesn’t seem like he’s joking. “Are you serious?”

“Who’s going to notice?” Brendon says with a shrug and a look that tells Ryan now it’s a dare.

“Um, Spencer,” Ryan says, the duh inherent in his tone.

Brendon scoffs. “I’ll get Spencer a beer and he’ll be good for at least half an hour.”

“You’re serious,” Ryan says softly and Brendon looks a bit sheepish but doesn’t deny it. It’s a little flattering to know that Brendon would blow off an entire party to fool around with him and lately his ego has needed some stroking.

“I’ll head upstairs and you’ll follow in like, I don’t know, five minutes?”

Ryan nods. “Guest bedroom?”

“Yeah, sure. Wherever.”

It feels strange to schedule a meet up (rendezvous, his brain unhelpfully supplies) with Brendon of all people, but Ryan has a feeling it’ll be worth it so he follows him inside after tucking his cigarettes into his back pocket.

He finds Spencer easily enough in the crowd and wraps him into a hug. They catch up even though they talk every week or so. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan watches Brendon work the room. He seems to know everyone, which isn’t that surprising, really. What’s more surprising is the way he seems completely relaxed and sincere with everyone, like he isn’t buying time until he can get Ryan alone upstairs.

“What’s up with you and Brendon?” Spencer asks and Ryan feels like he’s somehow caught.

“What do you mean?”

“You guys were out on the patio for like ten minutes.”

Ryan exhales a bit. “We were just having a cigarette. Catching up. You know,” Ryan says with a shrug.

“Being civil?” Spencer says with a raised eyebrow.

“It is possible,” Ryan says, feeling weirdly defensive.

“Since when?” Spencer says with a bit of a laugh. Ryan just shrugs. It isn’t worth spilling their secret, not quite yet. He watches Brendon mingle, smiling and attentive with Bronx in his arms. He feels Spencer’s eyes on him and wonders if there’s still a secret to spill.

“How was New York?” Spencer asks suddenly and Ryan turns sharply to look at him.

“Yeah, he didn’t say much about it. I figured...” Spencer makes a hand gesture that Ryan knows means, you guys fought or disagreed or whatever word you’re calling it today.

“No, it was fine,” Ryan says and turns back to see Brendon passing Bronx off to Ashlee with a grin. Bronx reaches out and grabs Brendon’s glasses which Ashlee manages to wrangle out of his grasp to hand back to Brendon. There’s a moment when Brendon looks back to where Ryan’s standing and catches his eye, and Ryan feels a small chill run down his spine.

“You want another beer?” Ryan asks Spencer, turning with some effort away from Brendon. Spencer sploshes the beer around in his bottle. “Maybe, if you’re going.”

Ryan nods and ignores Brendon’s gaze as he makes his way to the kitchen where empties are piling up on all surfaces. He hunts around in the fridge for a second before he finds the brand Spencer was drinking and digs around in the cutlery drawer for longer until he realizes the bottle opener is on the counter. He looks for Brendon as he makes his way back to Spencer but he’s nowhere to be found. Ryan stomach turns in anticipation but he tries to ignore as he hands Spencer his beer.

“They didn’t have whatever pretentious shit you’re drinking these days?” Spencer asks with a smirk and Ryan returns the smile with a sheepish shrug.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Ryan says, gesturing to the stairs behind them. “I’m just going to...”

He doesn’t finish that sentence, just lets Spencer fill in the blank and hope that he doesn’t fill it in with the truth. The stairs are dark as he makes his way up them and he flicks on the light at the top of the stairs as he tries to remember which door leads to the guest room. He opens four doors before he finds the room with Brendon in it, bending over flicking on the bedside lamp.

“Hey,” Brendon says when he straightens and smiles at Ryan. It’s not one of his full watt grins, it’s his dimmer nervous cousin but Ryan will take it.

“Hi,” Ryan says back and moves all the way into the room, closing the door behind him. He can’t believe they’re doing this – whatever this turns out to be. He knows he could change his mind now and Brendon probably wouldn’t think that much less of him but he finds he doesn’t want to change his mind.

For a moment they look at each other in the dim light, neither wanting to be the first to make a move, but then they both step forward at the same time and it doesn’t matter who reaches for who first, only that they’re kissing and it’s really fucking good.

Ryan doesn’t remember it being this intense last time, feeling this out of control. Brendon’s making these soft noises against his mouth and a growl spills out of his own lips before he can help it.

“How much time do we have?” Ryan asks, fumbling at Brendon’s belt, his motions made clumsy in his haste.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Brendon replies a bit breathlessly and tries to undo Ryan’s pants at the same time which results in neither of them succeeding.

“Stop, stop,” Ryan orders and Brendon does, pulling back his hands. Ryan kisses him hard – a reward for obedience – before he makes short work of their pants, leaving them on the floor. He feels nervous – anyone could walk in – but also full of adrenaline as he climbs onto the bed after Brendon. Brendon shimmies up the bed and out of his boxers somehow at the same time and Ryan’s left staring.

“You,” Brendon says urgently and paws at Ryan’s underwear until he gets the hint and gets off the bed to take it off, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he tosses it accidentally across the room with his toe. He shakes his head at himself, slightly embarrassed, but when he turns back to Brendon, Brendon’s grinning.

“Come here,” Brendon says around his smile in a low voice that Ryan has come to associate with Brendon’s dirty talk over the phone and Ryan’s instantly hard. He’s crawling across the bed before it even registers and capturing Brendon’s mouth in a kiss. He can feel Brendon hard against him and wonders belatedly if he should have taken off his shirt to avoid a mess. With Brendon kissing him he can’t quite bring himself to pull away.

“Been thinking about this,” Brendon pulls back to murmur and Ryan can only gasp in response as Brendon’s hand finds its way to Ryan’s cock. He strokes Ryan slower than Ryan would like and Ryan finds himself thrusting into Brendon’s fist, trying to get some friction.

He can feel himself getting closer and he realizes that he’s going to come like this, from a simple hand job but can’t bring himself to care, not when Brendon is murmuring all sorts of dirty things against his lips about wanting him, needing him.

“Yeah,” Brendon is panting against his mouth over and over, the hand not stroking Ryan sneaking down his back to grasp his ass. Ryan thinks about Brendon fucking him, spreading him open on the bed and parts his legs further, not caring how desperate he looks, how desperately he’s thrusting into Brendon’s hand. Brendon’s finger circles his entrance, as if knowing Ryan’s thoughts and Ryan can’t help the loud moan that escapes when Brendon penetrates him with just the tip. He wants more, so much more, but just the tip of Brendon’s finger and the very thought of more is enough to send him over the edge.

“God I want to fuck you,” Brendon is murmuring when Ryan comes back to himself. He’s thrusting shallowly against Ryan’s hip, a reminder that he still needs to get off.

“I – I didn’t bring anything,” Ryan says and curses himself silently. He pulls back from Brendon and sits back on his haunches. His gaze drifts down Brendon’s body to his cock, hard and waiting to be touched. It’s leaking from the tip and Ryan reaches out to touch and smears the fluid down his cock. Brendon lets out a hiss, silent for once and Ryan smirks.

He leaves his hand there even as he shifts onto his front and moves down the bed so he can easily bend his head to lick at the tip of Brendon’s cock.

Brendon lets out another sharp exhale which is nearly drowned out by the sound of Brendon’s phone vibrating from his pants on the floor. It’s probably Spencer wondering where he is, Ryan thinks, but it could be anyone. He doesn’t really know who Brendon talks to these days. The phone vibrates again and Ryan puts it out of his mind; Brendon clearly doesn’t care, not if the way his hand is tangling in Ryan’s hair is any indication. Brendon doesn’t pull so much as just hold on as Ryan takes him progressively deeper, his hand stroking in counterpoint. He can hear Brendon groaning above him until his groans dissolve into breathless pants and he’s coming, letting out a strangled string of curses. When Ryan pulls off he glares at Brendon with a vehemence that he doesn’t really feel.

“Could have warned me, asshole,” he says, knowing that he wouldn’t have pulled off even if Brendon had.

“Sorry,” Brendon says half-heartedly and leans forward to lick a drop a come from the corner of Ryan’s mouth before kissing him properly. It’s a bit embarrassing how easily Ryan melts into the kiss, how quickly he forgets that they’re in Pete’s guest room until he suddenly remembers and pulls back.

“We should go back down,” Ryan says reluctantly. As if on cue Brendon’s phone rumbles again. “Yeah,” Brendon says after a moment and kisses Ryan quickly before he climbs off the bed and pulls on his clothes. Ryan has to search a bit before he can actually get dressed but when he does Brendon is looking at him, an unreadable look on his face.

“What?” Ryan asks and raises his hand to his face self-consciously.

Brendon shakes his head. “Nothing. You look fine.” He watches Ryan for another long moment before a grin splits his face. “I mean, you look well fucked, but other than that...”

Ryan shoves him half-heartedly and makes his way downstairs, not looking to see if Brendon is behind him. He knows he’ll probably wait a few minutes so it doesn’t look quite so incriminating. When he gets downstairs Spencer is looking at his phone.

“Where’d you get off to?” Spencer asks when Ryan appears at his side, drink in hand. Ryan shrugs. “Washroom.”

“Run into Brendon?” Spencer asks, the beginnings of a smirk forming.

“Hmm?”

“Brendon was also in the washroom for the past half hour,” Spencer says, glancing down at his phone and now he really is smirking, the bastard.

Ryan could deny it, he knows, but the blush working its way up his face is saying otherwise. He just shrugs helplessly.

“I got our phone bill yesterday,” Spencer says conversationally. Ryan looks over at him, not quite sure he likes where this is going.

“Brendon and I are on the same plan because of some bundling bullshit so his bill comes in my name,” Spencer explains as if Ryan really wants to know the intricacies of their phone bills. “So?” Ryan says even as he knows the answer.

Spencer raises his eyebrows. “So I want to know why you guys have been talking every day since he got back from New York, avoiding my questions about how it went.”

Ryan starts to stammer out a response but Spencer stops him. “Except I don’t want to know because you guys are like my brothers. Just... don’t fuck him up, okay?”

Ryan nods.

“Don’t worry, he’s getting the exact same talk once he stops trying to be stealthy and comes down here.”

Ryan smiles and glances up at the stairs just as Brendon comes down, smoothing his shirt along the way just in case anyone at the party couldn’t guess what he’d been up to. Ryan starts to roll his eyes but catches Brendon’s gaze and smiles instead. Brendon grins back and Ryan thinks, least stealthy ever.

It’s only around ten when Ryan gets home but being in the same room with Brendon without being able to touch was trying his patience so he made his excuses and left early, after arranging to meet Brendon for a movie the next day. The whole thing feels vaguely like high school again, and he wonders idly if they can get away with making out at the back of the theatre as he takes off his shoes and leaves his jacket on a kitchen chair.

He digs around his kitchen drawer for a moment before pulling out his phone bill and dialling the number listed, humming a bit. After a long wait full of elevator music and advertisements a friendly female voice finally picks up.

Ryan clears his throat before saying, “Hi, I’d like to change my top five.”